Behind Enemy Lines
by penpaninuSessh
Summary: A look behind a soldier of the Fire Nation and his child.


Disclaimer: I do not own the likeness or properties of characters and places of the Avatar cartoon. They belong to Nickelodeon animation, not to me. Original concept of short tale is based on a dream the author had. A look at the other side of the war.

"Behind Enemy Lines"

an Avatar short story

by penpaninu

The Father :

He knows I am leaving again.

Everytime I see his small round face upturned to me, his eyes dim with the knowing that I must go out again. My regiment in the Fire Nation army was called out often, and often I had to leave him. My wife had died in childbirth with our second child, leaving only my son. How suddenly life turns in on itself, leaving only a fraction of my world behind.

The Fire Lord seemed to have heard my thoughts, for his war flared beyond desire and filled in the corners of the map. Each crust of land felled by our banners stained his nation's map as red as the fire I helped wield. The world was filled in for people like myself, but I took not joy of it.

I know the world hated the color I wore and the banner I followed. People acquiesed if they did not want to lose all they held dear, but I could feel the hatred simmering below the bowed heads, below the surface of carefully guarded looks. If looks could kill, my regiment and all the others would be flat on the ground already.

But we didn't, and our fire seemed to burn stronger than hate. City after city fell and victory continued to be ours.

"Is it time again, Father?" he asks, so serious for his age. Again I kneel down, and touch his smooth pale cheeks and black hair.

"Yes, Fei Hong. I must go to march again."

Routine, every word. Fei Hong stopped asking me long ago as to the WHY we constantly were on the move. He was taken always in a special moving column for army children without homes in the city. The presence of some of the soldier's children boistered some spirits but always filled me with a chill dread.

If our regiment were taken by rogue water benders, they would die with us.

My son nodded and touche my hand, unable to meet my eyes. Courage had been driven into him by our glorious Lord, but he could only try and seal his childish responses away. I knew he was afraid again and I tried so hard to smile for him.

"Which lock will you take today?" I asked and Fei Hong's eyes showed a glimmer of merriment. His small hands reached up and touched the side of my ragged topknot. At random, his chubby fingers plucked a little, fat lock of oiled black hair.

"This one," he suggested and my smile was genuine as I carefully cut the lock out of place with a dagger. Fei Hong clutched the hair close, before carefully sealing it into a pouch worn at his sash. The bag bulged half full; each time we marched, I gave him a lock of hair to keep. In essence it was to assure him that while I was not near, a piece of me was, I suppose.

At first I thought he hated that I did this, for a coiled black braid was all that was left of his dear mother. But he kept my hair devoutly, believing each time I would come back.

So far I did.

My shorn topknot hadn't won me any medals and I was constantly screamed at by my captain for its ragged appearance. But I found keeping faith in my child was more important.

"Be strong, Father," he said solemnly and my face stretched to an emotionless mask.

"Mind the older children," I said. My hand clasped his small shoulder tightly, so tightly... and I had to leave him to keep my appearance in tact.

The fraction of my world waved to me and he was gone from my view, the land and soldiers in red before me.

But enough pessimistic thoughts. My boots carried me with apparent pride to my place in the marching column, but my heart dragged heavy as a stone.

"Alright, men! Form rank and fall out!" our captain bellowed. He was up high on lizard back, his posture straight and tall. Proud, tall, strong. That was the Fire Nation way. I stomped in time to the left, and our column's combined turn made the earth clack.

Who knew if this morning was the last time I'd see my son again.

8

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The Son :

I know he is leaving again.

Everytime my father comes to me in full uniform, his boots brightly polished and his hands clenched, I know he is going to march.

I know it's stupid to ask, but I always begin with the same questions because I know he doesn't have much time.

"Is it time again, Father?"

The same merry smile I receive each time. "Yes, Fei Hong. I must go to march again."

I had heard rumors from the other children in the line that water benders could attack at any moment of any day now. Excitement I once felt at being in a Fire Nation military march had vanished long ago, putting fear like a pit eating its way through my stomach.

I touched Father's large hand and longed for a far past day where it was safe to hurl myself against Father's legs and squeeze so hard I couldn't breathe. But I knew this wasn't the time, or the place, this camp of soldiers, children and mustachioed captains.

Father must understand my unspoken wants, for he always offers a lock of his hair to keep close at my side. It is a poor substitute, but all the hair smells of him, and when I close my eyes in a tent of Fire Nation children, I can see him standing tall in my mind's eye.

A new lock of hair fisted in my small hand, I prepare to say goodbye to a soldier of the Fire Nation with as much pride as I could muster.

"Be strong, Father."

My father's face stretches into a stone wall, the face I see every day since Mother died.

"Mind the older children."

Routine, every word. But I knew he had to go. Father didn't have enough money to keep our home in the capitol and without a mother, I had no one to watch me except for these other children. They were really all I had.

Today's march began like all others, but ended utterly different. Young teenagers were given orders suddenly by ice-encrusted Fire soldiers, and all of us were herded together into a cavern to hide. Some of the line's livestock was put inside as well, under the pretense of guarding the foodstuffs, but I couldn't help feeling deathly afraid.

When the entrance was sealed off in a sudden cascade of ice, several of us panicked at the utter terror on the soldier's faces before they vanished from our sight behind a wall of frozen water. Where was my father and why were we locked away in this frozen hell??

Fear and nausea consumed my world for days, as our pitiful food supply ran out and our water was licked dry from our frozen canteens. The ice packing us into the cave was too hard to break off for cubes to suck on, and the kids who had tried to lick it for any way to wet their dry mouths howled hysterically in pain.

We were trapped by water but we couldn't drink it. And we are cold. So cold...

Few kids were old enough to have learned the Breath of Fire and many of us laid huddled on top of each other for whatever warmth we could give. I want to go to sleep because in my dreams it won't hurt so much.

It already stopped hurting as I lay here, anyway..

8  
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8.

The packed ice of the igloo fortress remained solid and unmoving through the cold nights and brisk days. But one day, a crack formed in the broad side of the sanctuary. Other spiderwebs linked to the first crack which deepened in size and width. In a matter of seconds the ice crashed apart in a crescendo of noise.

"Watch it, Katara!" a young man's voice yelped.

"I DID watch it! I guess I just got excited..." a young teenage girl argued back.

Footsteps sloshed closer and snow crunched as it was packed into a canteen.

"I know you're thirsty and all, but you didn't have to try and bury us," another girl chimed in non too helpfully. Raucous male laughter joined her.

"I didn't try to bury us! I was only..."

"Hey, there's something in here!" Sunlight peered into the cave along with a young man with a shaven head and topknot. His grin faded as he assessed the scene fully and realized that what lay before them was a tomb.

"What is it, Sokka?" Toph asked, picking her way to him. Katara and Aang sidled up to lend her their eyes. Instantly, the camarederie grew solemn as Katara shook her head.

"There are bodies here... that's all," Aang said sadly. The corpses still held flesh under their tattered clothing, kept fresh from the ice and snow. The children held sleeves to their noses as the smell hit them.

"Well I'm glad I can't see it, but why do I have to smell it," Toph complained. Aang and Katara led her away as Sokka raised an eyebrow.

"Wait a minute. They're wearing red."

"So?" Katara asked. She glared when Sokka made to block her path with his arm.

"So they're Fire Nation dead," he gave back. Katara lifted one finger and a glove of ice formed over her brother's hand. Only when he withdrew his arm, yelping in pain, did she retract her element.

"Did you see the SIZE of their clothing? They were children!" Katara snapped. Aang reappeared at her side, with a scarf tied around his nose and mouth. Katara silently accepted one from him and similarily wrapped her face.

"So, Fire Nation is still..." Sokka began to rant when Aang's large eyes met his.

"They were kids too, Sokka. Like us. I'm sure they never asked for this war as much as we haven't."

"Aang..." Katara said, her eyes growing soft. He was well over 100 years old but very much didn't look or act it. But sometimes, sometimes... he said such wise things that belied his youthful appearance.

Sokka sighed and Toph smiled.

"Whatever you say, Twinkle-Toes. We'll get them a proper burial yet."

The three benders worked together, shifting ice, earth and forming air around the bodies with their natural elements, or in Aang's case, together.

Sokka mainly stood to the side and acted like some sort of annoying supervisor. When Toph and Aang let the last fistful of dirt and mud settle over the graves, the kids finally relaxed.

"I wonder how they got sealed up like that," Katara wondered.

"That was a chunk of ice. It could have been one of us," Sokka replied gloomily.

"Yeah..." Aang said softly. Memories of seeing the tattoos on the backs of his hands glow as white as the light in his eyes drifted guiltily through his head.

"At least hopefully they can rest now," Toph put in.

As the kids trudged away, the transparent outline of a boy in red robes picked his way easily over the top of the snow drifts. Other ethereal boys and girls followed him and their sighs eased over the light cold breeze.

"Where's Father?" the boy asked and the other children shook their head.

"I don't know."

"Maybe he's where my father is at," another suggested. The band of faded children continued down the frozen landscape.

End

Short Avatar story based on a dream by the writer.

penpaninu 2/10/08


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